The Panic Button
by MorbidbyDefault
Summary: Sherlock discovers Molly in the middle of a panic attack. He stays by her side, helping her through the ordeal. Prompt fill for my lovely Icebabe59, whom I love dearly! :D Sherlolly!


So, this was a lovely little prompt from my darling Icebabe59. I hope she enjoys this, along with the rest of you lovely, wonderful people.

**Just so you know, none of this is owned by me. I just don't own anything, which is sad. Sigh...maybe someday. **

**The Panic Button:**

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

She hadn't remembered ever having one quite like this. Oh sure, she'd gotten them off and on, especially during final exams in uni, but this was different. It had been more than her customary ten and a half minutes, and the stabbing sensation in her chest only grew worse. She'd been curled up in a ball under her desk, as was her normal routine when she was younger. This time, the rocking back and forth wasn't helping, and the clamminess of her skin only spread across more of her body by the passing seconds.

"Molly, I need to see the result from that latest toxicology report." she heard Sherlock's muffled voice from the other room. Try as she might, the small pathologist couldn't stop herself from shaking long enough to crawl out and assist him. Instead, she tried to curl up tighter, hoping the pressure of her fingertips on her temple would help the splitting headache that had started. She could hear his voice sound again, this time a bit closer.

"Molly? It's...it's highly important." he said, his voice hesitating a moment just outside her office. Molly would be lying to herself if she said she didn't want him to come in and check on her. However, an equal part of her wanted nothing more than to be left alone, to deal with this by herself. The door clicked open, and she could make out the first footsteps as he entered. This only set her off again, the tightness in her chest squeezing the life out of her. Molly began gasping for breath, needing the oxygen desperately. Soon, the chair that she had pulled in front of her moved, and she came face to face with a very concerned looking detective.

"Molly? What's wrong? Come here." he said, his tone thick with worry. Molly shook her head brusquely, her lungs attempting to refill themselves with enough air that never seemed to come.

"Okay, okay. I'll come to you then." Sherlock mumbled quietly, before sliding down on to the floor completely, his body inching closer to hers. He now sat at the edge of where her desk began, and slowly reached out his hand to grab hers.

"Molly, look at me. Keep your eyes on mine, alright? You're having a panic attack. Try to breathe for me, alright?" Sherlock's hand scooped under her chin, bringing her face up to look at him. Molly's whole body shook like a leaf, her small chest heaving as she tried to calm herself. She eventually looked back at him, tears flowing steadily from her eyes as she tried to focus on him. He nodded his head, murmuring soft words of comfort to her. The grip on his hand was surprisingly strong, as Molly tried anchoring herself back to reality.

After a moment, she had finally stopped shivering so violently, and Sherlock took the opportunity to hoist her from the small corner and into his arms. Molly seemed to collapse in his hold, snuggling deep into his chest and letting out an audible gasp as she tried to breathe in deeply. The cold sweat that had completely taken over her did not go unnoticed. Sherlock began to rock her slowly, pressing her head against his chest and using his own heartbeat as a metronome.

"Breathe, Molly. Just breathe for me. That's it, it's alright. I've got you." his low voice practically whispered as Molly's breaths seemed to even out more and more. Soon, her small frame had stopped in its rigid seizing, and he could make out the steadily-evening pattern of her lungs moving properly for her. Sherlock nudged the top of her head with the tip of his nose, tilting it slightly back, only to find that she had fallen asleep in his arms. He smiled a bit to himself, happy that she was now calm. With a bit of careful planning on his part, he had managed to set her aside just long enough to stand, before he silently lifted her into his arms once again. Turning the light in her office off, Sherlock carried the small pathologist out of the lab, taking her away from whatever had stirred such a reaction within her.

OoOo

When Molly woke up, her first reaction was pain. Her whole chest felt like it had been run over by a truck, and the dull ache in her lungs made itself evident as she took in a slow breath. She then looked around, noting that first of all, she wasn't at work, but rather in a large and more than comfortable bed. She then noticed the more important fact, that she wasn't even in her own bed. If she had been more alert, it would have struck her immediately as to where she was. However, Molly didn't notice the possessions in the room around her, and hadn't figured out her surroundings until the consulting detective quietly opened the door. She turned to see him, before offering up a weak, slightly embarrassed smile.

"Ah, you're awake. Good. I was coming to check on you. Would you like some tea?" Sherlock asked, stepping fully into the room. Molly nodded her head, her nervousness showing as she bit her lip. Having realized what she was trying to encourage herself into doing, Sherlock moved to the side of the bed, sitting down beside her.

"You had a panic attack. After I was able to calm you down enough, your body's faculties took over, and you fell asleep. I brought you here, partly to keep an eye on you, partly because I forgot the keys to your flat, and picking the lock seemed hardly ideal at the time. How are you feeling?" Sherlock asked after his rambling. Molly chuckled a bit, wincing as the echoing pain in her chest jolted a bit more.

"Sore." She mumbled tiredly. Sherlock nodded his head knowingly. He moved to stand, before he stopped himself.

"Do you want to tell me what happened yesterday?" he cautiously brought the question to light. Molly shrugged slightly, before sighing out in resignation.

"It seems silly now. I think I was just overly stressed." she responded, laughing a bit at herself at remembering the incident that had set her off. She looked down as she felt his hand cupping hers, his thumb running gently over her knuckles. It was a silent request for her to continue. He wanted to understand. He wanted to help. Molly couldn't help but smile at the gesture.

"I had someone on my slab who reminded me of...of _him_. Blunt force trauma to the skull, and full rigor hadn't quite set in yet. I hit a nerve when I was opening him up, and his arm shot straight up. Nearly slapped me across the face." Sherlock's brow furrowed as she explained the scene to him. It went without saying who the cadaver had reminded her of, and he now fully understood why she would react the way she had. Molly was speaking again, softer this time.

"I haven't stopped having nightmares. I think...it's like it's still happening, at least in my head. Like it just happened yesterday. I know it's been four years now, but it doesn't feel like it. Not to me." She quietly, humbly confessed. Sherlock couldn't resist the urge, and swept her into his strong grip. Molly gasped a bit in surprise, before her arms slowly looped around his middle.

"It is over, though. And I'm here. More importantly, he's not, and he's never going to get near you again. I promise, Molly. I promise I'll keep you safe." Sherlock spoke softly, his words tangling in the soft waves of her hair. Molly sighed out, before her arms squeezed around him tighter.

"I know, Sherlock. Thank you. Thank you so much, for everything." her words pelted quietly against his chest, and she could feel him smile against her temple, before he pressed a soft kiss to the spot.

"Anything for you, Molly."

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Well, there you go. I hope that was okay for you. I quite enjoyed writing this fic, so I'm hoping it was a good read for you all too. Thank you so much for the support! Leave a review, let me know what you thought, yes? Alright, until next time, my lovelies!


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